kdc -- { karma development center }

our team )))

[ photos ]

[ cage brimming with angry monkeys ] - help desk
[ john moore liles ] - project manager
[ man with a whip and a paper bag on his head ] - john moore liles
[ shane essary ] - providor of discouragement
[ those which work too hard to have their names listed ] - our development team


about the kdc )))

the karma development center is buried in a bunker fifty feet beneath the earth in an undisclosed section of the us territories. the facility is guarded twenty four hours a day by our dedicated help desk workers. after passing through eight levels of surity clearances, you find yourself blinded by the strange fluorescent reflection from the pale dead faces of our development team. you watch in amazement as they consume massive amounts of kdc provided caffinated product, yet still fail to meet their deadlines. there is a loud crack as glass flies all over the room following the explosion of the crt in a nearby IBM 3151 ascii terminal that one of the staff was apparently trying to play everquest with. you quickly remove a few fragments from your eyes and continue walking down the corridor. a look of awe splashes across your face as you pass the in house ICEE machine. son, you think to yourself, this is the home of gods. down, now at the end of the hallway you begin to notice a small sign on the door. you can almost read it, it looks like the words "project manager" drawn with magic marker across the "men's" sign. "what is that smell?", you ask yourself. as you pass though the entrance you notice some very strange things about this 'office': the mirror has been replaced with a large composite rgb display on which you can see a grotesque image drawn with ascii characters. looking down you watch in horror as your feet are caught up in the hundreds of entangled wires and data cables, flashing LEDs and coffee stains that cover the floor.

a voice from one of the stalls calls out to you, "have a seat". "no thanks", you reply. at this point you proceed to ask this strange man a series of simple questions. it is, after all, your job.

you: "I don't believe we've been introduced"

potty man: "I don't believe in butter".

you think of another question just you lower your head in defeat.

you:: "why do you work in this men's room?"

potty man: "they don't wash themselves out there. its too much for me".

you: "well, is there another room that would be better suited for our interview?"

potty man: "oh, you're the reporter. excellent..."

just as the words leave his mouth your vision begins to fade. as you slowly regain control of your body you find yourself sitting in the warm glow of a computer display, reading this senseless document.

references )))